Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  Emn finally stopped a handspan away from Atalant, her eyes fixed on her face. Her hand reached for the clasp on Atalant’s purple sash but then paused, fingers millimeters from the material. Atalant’s mind slipped past the andal, past Arik’s presence and the death throes of her homeworld, and came up beside Emn’s. The younger woman buffered the calls and the cries that rang through Atalant’s mind, walling them away from the space the two now shared. Everything stilled. Even the palace itself seemed to be waiting to exhale, the andal roots busily reestablishing the palace’s framework momentarily at rest.

  Still, Emn’s fingers hesitated. She traced the edges of the wooden clasp that held the sash ends together, but her eyes never left Atalant’s.

  Unsure how much of the hesitation came from prior encounters and how much from their differences in status, Atalant covered Emn’s hand with her own and guided it to the buckle’s release. Emn depressed the lever, and there was a sound of wood on wood as the rayon band fell from Atalant’s robes to the floor, creating a purple halo around her feet. Atalant leaned forward and pushed up ever so slightly on her toes so that her mouth was just beside Emn’s ear as she ran her hands down Emn’s arms. The flight suit’s black fabric was coarse—too coarse, for Atalant’s liking—and she tugged at a sleeve cuff.

  “So much clothing and status,” Atalant whispered and kicked the sash away. She kissed just below Emn’s ear, her tongue dancing across smooth skin. Emn’s hands, surer now, moved to Atalant’s hips and gathered the fabric there.

  “Please,” Atalant whispered.

  Another breath, and Emn had her against the wall, arms pinned to her sides before more words could escape. Their noses brushed, lips millimeters from each other. Emn’s breath was hot on her mouth, Emn’s thoughts of the cockpit of the Mmnnuggl pod, of Atalant’s bedroom at their first inn on Ardulum, swirling in their minds. Her lips pressed to Atalant’s for too short a moment before moving to Atalant’s chin and then her throat.

  Stay put, Emn sent. The words were heavy in Atalant’s mind, coated in desire and a need she understood all too well. Her stuk gelled on her fingertips. The hems of her golden robes were up over her head a moment later. Atalant watched it with amused fascination as it curled to the ground, pooling with her sash in an increasingly complex mix of colors. Her loose shirt and pants came next, which Emn tossed to the side without a second glance. That left Atalant nude save for her very practical wool underwear, which she now regretted. Not that she had any fancier options, but still, this was Emn.

  “Not the Heaven Guard,” Emn murmured nonsensically as she stepped closer and cupped Atalant’s breasts with her hands. Warm fingers curled over Atalant’s nipples and stroked them to tautness as Emn’s lips met hers again. Emn pressed her body into Atalant’s, their lips threatening to slip past one another’s, so Atalant yielded immediately, opening her mouth to Emn’s as she slid her hands up the wall and over her head. Emn held the kiss for only a moment more before she dropped to Atalant’s throat and then pulled back, trailing her fingers against Atalant’s erect nipples until she was too far to reach them.

  Atalant remained where she was, conscious of the heavy rise and fall of her chest. The Ardulan, her Ardulan, studied Atalant. Atalant flushed as Emn’s gaze lingered on her markings, on her breasts, and on the remaining black undergarment that spanned her hips. Not touching, just watching. Memorizing. Savoring. Was this how she had stared at Emn back on the Mmnnuggl pod? Had she had this same look of near worship when she’d seen Emn emerge as an adult? Atalant had had the same desires, certainly, that she now felt from Emn. The desire to cup the sides of full breasts. The desire to stroke the hollows of hip bones.

  Still, Emn did not touch her. For a torturous moment, Atalant thought Emn might not continue—that the symbolism of the robes and the sash, and just being in the palace, might overwhelm her. But, Emn’s eyes never left hers as the younger woman unfastened her flight suit. The thick fabric slid over Emn’s shoulders and hips, revealing pale, translucent skin awash with Talent markings. Atalant’s breath caught. The markings were still as striking here, in a palace built of living andal, as when Emn first surfaced from her chrysalis.

  Emn’s undergarment slid to the floor. Atalant wanted to bring her gaze back up, knew that she should bring her eyes back to Emn’s, but andal help her, Emn was shaped so perfectly, and the veins on her torso looked so enticing as they dipped below her belly, that Atalant could only stare and babble. “Ardulan markings on me. On my partner. In an eld palace with sentient trees whispering in my head.”

  “Hmm.” Emn stepped towards her, and Atalant counted her breaths—in and out, in and out—working her eyes back up past jutting hips, smooth breasts, and lips that she’d sorely neglected. When Emn’s thumbs hooked into Atalant’s underwear and tugged them to the floor, Atalant’s legs threatened to buckle. But then, Emn was there, her body pressing Atalant to the wall, her hand cupping between Atalant’s legs. There was no air, no breath, as Emn’s tongue searched her mouth, as Emn’s breasts pressed against her own. There was one long, torturous glide of Emn’s fingers between her folds before her hand came away and trailed across the inside of Atalant’s thigh. Atalant’s growl turned into a gasp as Emn sank to her knees, lifting Atalant’s thigh as she did so and directing it over her shoulder.

  Emn put her forearm across Atalant’s abdomen, bracing her against the wall. She was strong. Atalant didn’t remember her being so strong. It didn’t matter. Emn’s tongue had found new territory and was exploring. Stroking. Each high beginning made Atalant arch her back, and each low finish brought out a thrust in her hips. Back and forth, the warmth and wetness overwhelmed her. She could barely keep upright, not with Emn’s movements idling at each of Atalant’s vocalizations.

  “Emn,” Atalant lilted as the Ardulan began to press as she stroked. Her tongue dipped farther down, and Atalant gasped. She gripped the wall, her fingers threatening to stick there. “I can’t stay sta— Please—” Her breath caught in her throat as Emn eased Atalant’s leg from her shoulder and pulled her to a kneel, hands firmly on Atalant’s hips. Emn liked taking the lead and that…andal help her, Atalant couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. If this is what her uncle had meant about giving oneself to Ardulum, or letting Ardulum lead, then damn if the old man hadn’t been spot-on.

  “Atalant?” Emn paused and then moved her attention to Atalant’s jaw, momentarily releasing her hips.

  While Emn teased her with kisses that traced Atalant’s lips, Atalant took the opening to do some exploring of her own. Emn’s breasts were smaller than hers, firmer, but the skin was delicate and warm, and Emn was delightfully responsive when Atalant applied light pressure to her nipples. Atalant’s stuk turned silky. As she started to glide one hand farther down, stroking across Emn’s stomach, the younger woman surprised her by pushing Atalant onto her back, grinning and laughing and swelling Atalant’s chest with joy.

  Emn’s fingers stroked and pushed, finding their way back between Atalant’s legs, and then all Atalant could do was gasp and buck against her palm until Emn once again pressed against her, their breasts touching, trailing kisses along her jawline and teasing her lips.

  Atalant arched her back and trailed fingers over Emn’s side—bumping over the raised marks—down to Emn’s hips, and then, finally, between her legs. Although stuk made daily life frustrating, here, at least, it had a delightful purpose.

  “Oh!” Emn’s eyes opened wide.

  Atalant lightened the pressure, her touch turning feathery, until Emn’s hips found the right rhythm. Emn buried her face in Atalant’s neck.

  Okay? Atalant asked as her strokes became longer, firmer, and Emn’s hip movements more urgent.

  I don’t care if the planet is threatening to move again. Don’t you dare stop.

  They rocked against each other, fingers gliding and pressing. Emn’s mouth found Atalant’s once more, and this time, the kiss lingered as Emn mimicked Atalant’s movements, and they curled their fingertips
inside one another in tandem. Atalant couldn’t tell whose breath was whose, who was gasping and who was whimpering as their mouths slipped past one another, their movements becoming urgent. Their bodies were slick with sweat as their breasts pressed together. Atalant bucked against the heat from Emn’s palm and, echoing in her mind, she felt Emn’s desire for firmer contact. Or was it her desire? There was too much breath and heat and wetness. She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t think, unless they were thoughts of how Emn’s nipples tickled her skin, or how Emn’s thighs clutched her own. Atalant pulled her fingers out—just enough to glide a few high circles over Emn’s clit—and felt the shock course through her own body as well. Emn cupped a hand over Atalant’s, and the sudden warmth, and then pressure, wound through both of them, growing from one to the other as fingers glided out, circled, and then pressed in again. When the spasms started, Atalant couldn’t tell whose they were and where one ended and another began. It didn’t matter as they clung to each other, embraced in one another’s minds until, finally, they collapsed into one another, slick and content.

  There was no sound in the hall after that, save for the erratic breathing of the two women. Emn moved to Atalant’s side, but kept a leg possessively sprawled across her. Reluctantly, Atalant slid her hand back as Emn did the same and then pulled the Ardulan closer. The temperature was already beginning to drop with the afternoon, and even with the heated floor, Atalant shivered.

  “I don’t want to wait weeks to do this again,” Emn whispered as she moved to her back and pulled Atalant next to her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Her question? Atalant sifted back through recent events, flushing further as she relived some of the details, before she remembered. “The robes? About being in the Heaven Guard? Or, did you mean in comparison to being an eld?”

  Emn kissed her forehead. “Having Eld robes instead of Heaven Guard robes. Is it enough?”

  Atalant covered one of Emn’s breasts with her hand and stroked where the skin met her collarbone. “It’s an interesting job, if that’s what you mean. Not enough piloting for my taste, but I think there’ll be more time for that and other activities once we move to an uninhabited system. Is it enough?” Her words trailed into thoughts. You’re what I want. Not robes, no matter the color. You are enough.

  A satiated contentment fell between them, then, even as the cooling wood sent Atalant’s body into a shiver. Emn’s consciousness drifted near sleep, and as it did so, the mental walls she’d erected to filter out Atalant’s other visitors faded. Ardulum breathed back into Atalant’s mind. An image slowly formed of long seedpods growing fat in the sunlight.

  Successful seeding, the andal sent smugly. The seedpods dropped to the ground simultaneously and buried themselves in the earth. Immediately thereafter, seedlings sprouted, leaves curling towards the sun. We accept your proposal, Atalant, to save our dying children. You may return to Neek.

  Chapter 14: Scarlet Lucidity

  Been thinking about that time we hauled the GMO saplings for Cell-Tal…the ones that had to be attached to scaffolds so they would grow upright. Don’t remember why they couldn’t haul them. Doesn’t matter now. But do you remember we had to stop at Molon, that crappy little moon of Missotona, to refuel. You were still getting used to the Pledge’s controls and peeled three layers of bio-reflective spray from the hull when you skidded into port. And when we landed and opened the hatch, the dock worker screamed up the entry at you, and you were just sitting there with a shit-eating grin, babbling about how you’d finally figured out how to work the front thrusters while steering.

  I didn’t even know the ship had front thrusters.

  —Etched letter found on a corner wall of the Mmnnuggl pod Bysspp at Xinar Station’s shipyard

  JANUARY 26TH, 2061 CE

  The Scarlet Lucidity pushed through the Ardulan atmosphere in three short bursts of its thrusters. As the image on the viewscreen narrowed to only stars, Atalant cut the thrusters and let the ship coast. She could hear the andal’s voices becoming thinner as the distance between the planet and her mind grew, allowing more room for her own thoughts.

  Nicholas sat in the thick, cushioned chair to her right. He’d let his head sink into the back, eyes closed. There was a bulge in his right pocket, and Atalant watched with confusion as he gently tapped it with his first two fingers and it rippled in response.

  Emn was to her left, also strapped into a chair but sitting forward, silently watching the viewscreen. One of her hands was on the armrest of Atalant’s chair, idly stroking the plush fabric. Stroking and curling. Atalant flushed at the movement, remembering what it could elicit on more sensitive parts of her body.

  “Nice to be back to this,” Nicholas commented without opening his eyes. He scratched at the pocket lump through the beige flight suit he wore—an unfortunate homage to the Pledge’s standard-issue ones—and a contented sigh sounded from his pocket. Then, he kicked his chair back into a recline and propped his feet on the console. “I called my mom, finally. I don’t know why I never did before. With the Crippling War and then Ardulum and then the rebuilding… Anyway, told her I was heading back to the Systems.” Nicholas turned to Atalant, a wry smile on his face. “‘Course, then I had to explain that I had left the Systems. You can imagine how that went.”

  Atalant opened her mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. “Nicholas, please don’t tell me the Eiean representative is in your pocket.”

  Nicholas sat up, bringing the chair with him, reached into his flight suit, and pulled out a coarse mat of white mycelium. “Oh. Yeah. This is Hepatica. They were one of the fungi that volunteered to go along, and they had already met Emn, so it seemed like a logical choice.”

  “Hello,” Emn said, sitting straighter in her chair. “I didn’t think we’d have a chance to meet again. Welcome.”

  “Hello,” the fungus squeaked as it jiggled in response.

  “They said they were content to ride with me during the trip and go where I went since I’d be tailing you, Atalant, so we settled on my pocket.” Nicholas arched his brows. “I don’t like it when you get that look.”

  Atalant rubbed her face into her shoulder and decided against a retort. “Representative Hepatica, welcome to the Scarlet Lucidity. Please let me know if you need anything. A pocket might…might not be the most comfortable way to travel.”

  The fungus reached a coiled strand of hyphae to Nicholas’s cheek, lightly slapped it twice, and then curled back down into Nicholas’s hand.

  “You’re pretty swell too, Hepatica.” He eased the being back into his pocket and patted the bulge once again with a smile. “We had some time to chat while you and Emn were, uh, loading and stuff.” Nicholas faked a cough. “I gave them a tour of the ship, and there was a kind of awkward moment where they asked why we built ships out of food. Heh. They’re from one of the wood-decay species. Once we got that straightened out, everything was fine. They’re settled in for the trip.”

  Except, now there was a wood decay fungus on her ship that was made with cellulose weave, and they didn’t have another food supply other than Emn’s andal readily available. What could possibly go wrong with that? “Nicholas—” Atalant began and then stopped. A small, blue light had lit up on the dash, indicating that the Lucidity was far enough from Ardulum to engage the generator. Atalant placed her fingers into the depressions, but hesitated.

  “Nicholas?”

  “Yeah?” he responded quizzically. “Does it really bother you that Hepatica is in my pocket?”

  “No.” Atalant tried to collect herself. “It’s just…we’re going back to the Systems. Another hour won’t make a difference, and…I could drop you off on Earth for a visit, if you’d like.” Atalant brought her hand back to her lap. “Maybe you should see your family before we stick our noses into another shitstorm.”

  Nicholas shrugged and patted Hepatica through his pocket. “My contract with you isn’t up, and I hadn’t expected to see them for the full two years anyway.
Besides, I…” He trailed off and raked his fingers across his thighs. “A lot of things have happened since I left, you know? I’m not some dumb kid anymore. I…I worry about how my parents will deal with that change. They wanted me to Journey on Risal with the Risalians and learn historic accounting law, and I think I— I think I’m sort of a pirate now. I mean, I’ve got a sentient fungus in my pocket, Atalant. I don’t even know where to start with that.”

  Atalant leaned back into her chair and let the silence stretch between them for a long moment. “I think you just have to hope they grew, too, so they know to expect differences. And maybe we won’t show them Hepatica.”

  “Yeah,” Nicholas responded. “I suppose, at least I’m not coming home a god.”

  Ah, there it was. The jab. The contemplative tone in the cockpit broke with Emn’s snort. Atalant swiveled her chair to face Nicholas and smacked the side cushioning of his seat. “Don’t get sassy, now. I’ve got a pretty low crew complement here, and I’d hate to demote you to cabin boy.”

  “Hah!” Nicholas scoffed as he turned as well. “Since you’re pilot and captain, I’d like to respectfully remind you of which of us on this ship can actually cook.”

  That time, Emn laughed loudly. “He has a point, Atalant. Let’s not anger the chef.”

  “Fair enough.” Atalant settled back into her chair and pushed a strand of hair from her face. She reached for the console, but Nicholas’s hand stilled hers.

  “Are we going to fly there blind? Did Corccinth have any useful intel for us?” Nicholas asked. “We don’t just want to show up, do we?”

  Atalant shook her head. “Ekimet is Corccinth’s grandchild, so if zie is alive, Corccinth would appreciate if we brought zir back. She also tried to convince me that the Eld weren’t colossal assholes, but I don’t think I believe that.”